


need you for my dreams

by daisysusan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Genderswap, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M, girl!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-11 16:30:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisysusan/pseuds/daisysusan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry didn't mean for the threesome with Zayn and Liam to be a recurring thing but apparently it's become one. Since they're doing it again and all. (Always-a-girl!Harry.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	need you for my dreams

**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt](http://catchmelike.livejournal.com/1656625.html?thread=12887601#t12887601) at the [girl!direction](http://catchmelike.livejournal.com/1656625.html) fic fest. Many thanks to Tora for taking a quick look at this (though it is mostly-unbetaed commentfic).

It—it was going to be a one-off, Harry’s sure they meant it to be, but this is the third time—or maybe the fourth, or the fortieth—it’s happened; she can’t keep her thoughts straight with Zayn kissing his way up one thigh and then the other, left and right and left again, never going any higher. Liam’s sitting behind her, his chest pressed to her back and she can feel his cock against the small of her back, heavy and hard. He’s breathing heavy, his chin hooked on her shoulder, and he’s watching, she can hear the sharp intake of breath when Zayn bites down on the inside of Harry’s thigh and _sucks_. 

Harry’s hips jerk forward into the air when he does it a second time, and she whines incoherently, her hand scrabbling for Zayn’s head, pushing him higher. Liam hums dissent in her ear and reaches around her, taking her hands out of Zayn’s hair and lacing their fingers together instead. 

She can’t really move, Zayn’s hands holding her legs against the bed and Liam’s holding her arms away from her body. This is new, they’ve not done this before and it’s a little overwhelming that all Harry can do is curl up into the empty air above her or press back against Liam as he trails kisses and small nips down her neck. 

“Do you like this?” Liam asks, voice breaking a little when Zayn blows on Harry’s cunt and she rolls forward into it. He’s sucking her earlobe now, just a bit of teeth, and Harry’s not sure how to form words to answer because she really, _really_ likes it, never wants it to stop except for how she would also really like Zayn to put his mouth on her instead of dancing around it. 

She settles on just whimpering—well, she would have done that whether she wanted to or not, Liam’s running his teeth down her neck —and grinding back against him. 

Zayn moves up Harry’s body—too far up, though. His teeth graze her hip, catching a ticklish spot, and Harry squirms; Liam moans, low and hoarse, and it’s so close to her ear she can feel the vibrations. She wants to be kissing him, hearing him make those noises into her mouth, but when she tries to speak all that comes out is a low “Zayn, please” that sounds so, so incredibly wrecked—Harry didn’t know her voice could do that.

It works, sort of—Liam drops one of her hands and uses his to tilt her chin around so their lips meet in a slightly uncomfortable kiss that is more than worth the crick she’ll have in her neck tomorrow. He pulls back momentarily and whispers, “Don’t move your hand,” before leaning in, stroking his thumb down her neck and biting at her lower lip. 

Harry makes a noise she’d rather not focus on when Liam licks into her mouth; she distracts herself by sucking on his tongue and enjoying the way he whines, pulling her closer.

Zayn, of course, devious bastard, picks that moment to finally finally finally actually start eating her out, pressing a hard, sloppy kiss directly to her clit. Harry gasps, arching into it and away from Liam, who chases her mouth as best he can while Zayn hums against her, licking and kissing and generally being entirely too good at this. 

Jesus, if Harry had known he was this good at giving head she’d have had him on his knees ten minutes after the first time they kissed. 

As it is, Liam’s stopped kissing her, too focused on watching Zayn tongue at her, teasing her clit and folds but never actually—god, she just really wants him to fuck her with his tongue, that would be—Harry twitches helplessly at the thought. Liam leans farther forward, pressed so close against her back that she can feel every time his dick throbs which, Harry’s not entirely sure how she’s supposed to handle that and Zayn licking rhythmically at her clit at the same time.

And then Zayn pulls away and Harry starts moving her hand to push him back down but Liam grabs it before she can. “Do you want me to fuck you with my tongue?” he asks, looking up through his eyelashes, and his voice is dark. All Harry can do is nod emphatically and enjoy the way Liam says, “You should, god,” in a rough voice. 

Zayn just goes for it, no warning before his tongue is _inside her_ and there is no power in the world that could stop Harry from pressing down into it, basically grinding against his face. 

“Fuck,” Liam whispers. “That’s really hot.” He’s rolling his hips against her back now, not just jerking them occasionally, and it’s probably the only thing in the world that could distract her from Zayn’s tongue inside her, his thumb circling her clit loose and fast and almost-enough-but-not-quite. Liam’s so hard against her, he must be half mad with it; she knows she’s right when she tells him she wants him to fuck her and he immediately grabs the base of his cock, going totally still and so clearly forcing himself to not come. 

“Don’t stop,” she says to Zayn, but he does anyway, pulls his tongue out—Harry whines—and then he sucks at her clit hard and she’s coming unexpectedly, stiff and then shaking, Liam’s arms going around her waist as he presses tender kisses to her neck. 

When she’s come down, Liam moves her forward gently, settling her into Zayn’s lap now that he’s sat up. Zayn kisses her, soft, and it’s heady with the taste of Harry herself in his mouth. 

This ought to mean something, it’s not insignificant that it keeps happening, that since the first time Liam kissed her, holding her against the wall, and Zayn watched them with his eyes huge and dark and wanting, she’s not been able to keep her hands off either of them. They curl together on the bus and then fall into bed together at night and it’s the happiest Harry’s been since the day Simon Cowell looked at them and said he was signing them. 

Liam’s scrambling about behind her, probably in search of a condom, but all Harry can think is that he’s going to fuck her soon and Zayn—maybe Zayn will go down on her again while he does it. This might be all Harry wants out of life, except the band and singing. That’s a little scary to think but—kind of comforting, too, how easy it is for them to make her so happy.

Into Zayn’s mouth—she’s barely pulled away from the kiss enough to speak—she asks him if he can do it, eat her out while Liam fucks her, and he makes a noise she’s never heard from him before, a kind of strangled moan. 

“I— _Christ, Harry_ ,” he chokes out. His eyes are huge and his lips are swollen and red and, frankly, it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. She’s kissing him again when Liam touches her back, slides one hand around to her waist and the other between her legs. 

“You ready?” he asks, low and rough and unbelievably hot. 

Harry crawls backward toward him as fast as she can, trying to pull Zayn with her so they don’t have to stop kissing. She’s got his pants down far enough she can grip his cock firmly and stroke him while she settles herself into Liam’s lap; Zayn comes forward easily, drawn by Harry’s lips and her hand on him. 

“Like this?” Liam asks her, and Harry nods emphatically, and then Liam’s guiding himself into her. 

It’s tight at first, and the angle is unlike anything she’s ever experienced, and Harry finds herself pressing down harder into Liam’s lap, wanting more and harder and simultaneously being overwhelmed by the intensity of it. She remembers this, the tightness in her chest as well as her cunt, the stretch that felt like it went through her emotions in addition to her body, wrapping around Zayn and Liam as well—comfort and safety and a gut-wrenching hope that it never ends. 

Zayn jerking forward into her hand distracts from the stillness of Liam in her but not moving yet, from the emotions coursing through her with the arousal, and she starts jerking him again, watching his face go completely slack when she twists her hand around the top, and then he’s coming with a soft noise. 

Harry, for lack of anything better to do, licks her hand clean and makes a small face at the taste; Zayn’s eyes go impossibly wider and darker, and Liam thrusts into her hard. 

“God, Liam,” she says, the words strangled and tight, “ _Move_.”

He does, pushing into her slowly but forcefully, and Harry’s stomach tightens, her whole body tingling with every thrust. Zayn shakes himself out of his post-orgasmic haze and drops down to lap at her clit, just above where Liam’s cock is moving in and out of her. She can’t stop watching Zayn’s mouth, cataloging the way Liam gasps a little and then pushes harder every time Zayn’s lips touch the place they’re joined. 

It is definitely, absolutely the hottest thing she’s ever done, bouncing on Liam’s cock with Zayn’s head bobbing in time between her legs and she’s coming again before she expects it, clenching around Liam. He doesn’t stop moving, fucks her through it, and Zayn pulls up to kiss her but his hand replaces his mouth so quickly the sensation never stops. 

She’s oversensitized now, unable to tell all the touches apart, what’s happening now and what’s a phantom of things that have stopped, but she comes apart entirely once more before Liam finally stills and pulls out. Harry falls back onto the bed when he moves away, pulling Zayn down next to her. 

“I’m never moving again,” she says weakly. “Actually, I don’t think I _can_ move.”

Liam is standing next to the bed, looking down at where Harry has draped herself half across Zayn and is already letting her eyes fall shut and—she’s too gone to make herself do it but she needs to pull him onto the bed, needs him curled around them as well. 

Zayn does it for her, grabbing Liam’s hand and tugging him down, where he curls around Harry and kisses the back of her neck once. 

The last thing Harry remembers saying before she falls asleep is “Can we do this again tomorrow?”


End file.
